


By Chance

by black_cosmos



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, PWP, mention of VaneLance, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 14:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_cosmos/pseuds/black_cosmos
Summary: That man is dangerous. It feels so romance novel typical, but he is but a moth to that bright cool flame. He’s addicting. The taste of his skin lingers on his mouth. He can still feel his strong arms around him. He still remembers the sound of his voice however little he’s heard it. In fact, that’s all the more reason to want to hear him more. Siegfried lays on his bed that night thinking that he really wants to kiss him. He wants to see him again. He wants his name… he knows that all those things won’t happen. He wants to hope, but it isn’t likely.





	By Chance

Percival is only here by chance.  
  
He doesn’t take the transit system, why would he need to if he has a personal chauffeur that drives him around when he needs to get to places? It’s part of his contract, his agent and manager are very good when it comes to bargaining those little perks. Of course, he has started with humble beginnings, too. Those days are long gone for him, though, not since he has been the face for Japan’s biggest brand of men’s fragrance on top of his regular modelling work.  
  
Percival’s face is everywhere you look:magazines, tabloids—hell, even that towering sign of this shopping mall in Shinjuku where he’s currently trying to navigate the subway system that he hadn’t been on for years. Has it always been this busy? Even though this suit isn’t the one he’s going to be wearing for the shoot, he’s still worried about the fact that they’re going to get creases at this point just standing here near the map with the amount of foot traffic.  
  
Don’t even get Percival started on why this is happening. His driver calls in this morning with a last minute family emergency. Fine. He’s not so heartless to tell him he can’t go when it concerns his family, even if he has a very important photo shoot to go to literally an hour after the phone call. He’s tried to call his agent and his manager to have someone pick him up, but the major road leading to the studio is closed because of an accident. That also means, he couldn’t take a cab from his condo if he wanted to. It just seems like everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. The stars aligned and decided that today—today, it’s going to shit on Percival.  
  
So, this is his last resort. He has to take public transit—  
  
—which is easy, his agent says!  
  
It’s just one train ride away, he says.  
  
Take the Oedo line up from Azabu, he says.  
  
Get off at Shinjuku Station, he says.  
  
So where the hell does that take Percival?  
  
On the phone with his agent trying to figure out where in the world he is because this place doesn’t at all look like the studio where he’s supposed to go. His phone’s GPS isn’t even remotely helpful as it made him walk ten minutes one way and then show a completely different area. None of these buildings or roads look familiar. He’s on the phone now with his agent, being asked which exit he went out of and how is he supposed to know that? No one told him to pay attention to these things and he really doesn’t know how to navigate these streets on foot.  
  
He turns around exasperated, and as he does, his elbow gets knocked forward. It makes him drop his phone, and Percival is honestly expecting it to just suddenly rain despite the sun shining over his head—  
  
“Sorry.” The voice calls, and the one who bumped against him. They both crouch down to pick up the phone at the same time, and Percival snatches it back. He’s not going to take his chances of having some pickpocket take his only mode of communication. He gets up, meets the eyes of the person who is about to give the nastiest glare he could manage. That doesn’t happen though, in fact, that glare flies right out the window enough that he forgets he still has a phone call going.  
  
Percival has been around a lot of beautiful people in his line of work. Naturally, since he is a top model, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone who has done the cliché take-his-breath-away until this man. He’s stunning. Brown eyes framed with glasses the compliments his face shape, accented by his long dark hair combed over to one side, resting over his broad shoulder. He’s wearing a high class three-piece suit, brown with a trendy cerulean shirt and white tie.  
  
In what feels like minutes, they stare at each other. He sees it. Percival sees the way the man before him gestures his eyes. Shameful as it may be, he’s… familiar with the gesture. One night stands are something he’s indulged in, would he even call this a one night stand when it’s broad daylight?  
  
How shameless. He has work…  
  
Percival cuts the line on his phone and slides it to his pockets. He follows the man.  
  
They end up in a bathroom stall. At the very least, the bathrooms in this fancy mall are also quite ostentatious. As soon as he steps into the cubicle, the man closes the door behind the two of them. There’s something ridiculously attractive with the way he takes his glasses off and slides it to the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Some people look different with and without their glasses, and he same is true for this man. He looks even more beautiful.  
  
He leans forward to kiss him and Percival brings up two fingers to stop him. No kisses. No words. No name.  
  
The man seems to have understood and he kisses his fingers instead. He ducks his head to get at Percival's neck, feeling him nip and kiss the exposed parts of his neck above his collar. Percival lets out a shaky breath, hands travelling from his chest, across his torso, to his pants. As much as he wants to touch his well toned body, he knows that he’ll crease his shirt and he doesn’t want to do that. Not when the man is also taking proper care not to ruin his suit. He feels him go for his pants, pulling it down so it rests mid-way on his thighs.  
  
For a moment, he wonders if he has what he needs, but he wouldn’t be ushering someone to this if not, right? This man is a typical suave, isn’t he? He feels him going for his own pockets, and he feels him touching back there with lubricated fingers—good. He’s good. Percival, for his part also undoes his pants, shucking it down so he could set his length free. He’s not there yet, but he is getting hard. He decides to help with that.  
  
Percival leans back enough to meet his eyes, and the man blinks at him before he gestures his head for the lubricant in his free hand. He does so like there isn't a finger inside of him stretching him out. The man smiles at him—how dare he smile? It’s so bright, he could honestly blind people with that. All Percival wanted is the lube, he feels so attacked. How in the world could anyone have a charming beauty like this?  
  
He fumbles a little for some lube before passing the carry-on sachet to him. It’s his turn to lean forward and kiss along his neck. He’s starting to sweat a little—he can taste it on his skin. He uses his lubricated hand to stroke him, trying to see what will get him to react more when he feels him hit that spot inside of him.  
  
Percival moans a little. It’s been a while since he’s done this with a man, he’s forgotten how good that feels. That makes the man pull back to try to meet his eyes, moving his free hand to gesture with his finger against his lips for him to be quiet. Percival makes a face and maybe he vindictively squeezes his length as he feels him start to scissor his muscles open behind. The man groans a little but leans down to nip at his neck, scolding him for the gesture, but Percival continues as he is.  
  
For a quickie, this is taking longer. Percival moves his mouth from where he’s partially undid his tie and shirt to get more at his skin. He traces his jaw, to his ear where he whispers, “Enough… do it already.”  
  
The man stops, pulls back his fingers from inside of him, and goes for his pockets again with his clean hand. Percival keeps his eyes and he can tell that he wants to kiss him. Too bad, he doesn’t really do that with a quick fuck like this. The man bring up the condom to his mouth to tear the wrapping, sliding it on for himself and Percival. How considerate of him. Percival is already hard, he just wants this now. The man moves down to help one pant leg off. He takes that same leg and lifts it, bracing Percival against the door. He meets his eyes once more and he feels him—always much thicker than his fingers could’ve stretched him out, but damn.  
  
Damn, does he feel good.  
  
He feels so full, and he thinks that pushing in, he even hits his prostate. He feels like he’s reaching deep. Percival feels his legs turn to jelly. Oh. It feels really good. He wraps his arms around his neck, pressing their foreheads together. He’s breathing heavily now, eyes closed. He muffles his groan by rolling his lips together, pressing them a little hard. It feels slick inside because of the condom and lube, but he feels everything. He just hadn’t had sex with anther man in a while that he’s sensitive back there.  
  
Even more so when he starts to move—god he feels like he’s losing his mind. He clings harder, and he can’t help the soft squeaks and groans that leaves him. Percival really is trying not to be too loud, but it’s arguable just how much that’s happening. He can feel the man still ravaging his throat, and some stupid part of his brain thinks that it’ll feel even better if he marks him. It doesn’t take him too long before he could’ve sworn he could feel his length throbbing as it pulses. The movement of his hips becomes a little more erratic.  
  
Percival rides that high and comes shortly after. He orgasms in a way that feels like he’s been hit with something hard at the back of his head, causing his vision to white out. His legs gives up after him, numb but light with his release. The man supports him with his arms around his lower back now, steadying as the two of them catch their breaths.  
  
When the man steps back, he feels…. strangely cool. He’s been so warm. Percival takes his time in taking off the condom on him. He wipes himself clean with the tissues and then straightens out his suit. The man is still in the same stall as him and he’s doing everything as he is, except he asks for the condom to dispose of it wordlessly, as well as passing him tissues to get cleaned up. He’s messed up the man’s hair from the way he’s clung to him, but other than that, he’s still the pristine picture of beauty as he has seen him.  
  
Percival could feel that there are going to be words. He knows it, therefore he does what any man in his position would do at a time like this. He steps out of the stall, washes his hands, making sure his hair is slicked back as it is usually, before he leaves. He has to still find the damn studio.  


  
Siegfried has only been there by chance. 

He doesn’t usually go this way, it’s just that his dog’s vet happened to be out of town. He needed to bring Sylph to another vet for her shots, and it happened to be in Shinjuku. They’re the only ones, like his regular, that acts like a daycare of pets as well. Meaning he can drop her off to the vet in the morning, and then come pick her up on his way home. It’s very convenient, everything considering. She does have people who look after her when he’s at work so she doesn’t get lonely at home, but he doesn’t want to bother Vane for a vet-run. Looking after her is one thing, but having to bring her places is another.   
  
He really isn’t expecting anything, let alone an encounter with who he could only describe as the personification of fire. Red. Everything is red. His eyes like molten lava, expressive though they seem to be well masked. His hair swept up, red, away from his face that seems like it’s been cut out of a magazine. It burns to be near him, the kind of heat that lingers against his skin only to travel elsewhere. He thinks that he catches him trying to glare, and expression, he’s sure would be as fiery as his entire being screams he is. 

Then things just happened. 

He doesn’t normally do things like that. But they met each other’s eyes and he thinks that the want is mutual. So, things happen. Siegfried is a little late for work, but he does have an excuse. It’ll be a complete lie, though, to say that when he picked up Sylph from the vet, that he isn’t looking around in some false hope that he might see that man again. He isn’t seeing anyone right now, he hasn’t been seeing anyone for a while now.   
  
That man is dangerous. It feels so romance novel typical, but he is but a moth to that bright cool flame. He’s addicting. The taste of his skin lingers on his mouth. He can still feel his strong arms around him. He still remembers the sound of his voice however little he’s heard it. In fact, that’s all the more reason to want to hear him more. Siegfried lays on his bed that night thinking that he really wants to kiss him. He wants to see him again. He wants his name… he knows that all those things won’t happen. He wants to hope, but it isn’t likely.

He really wants to.   
  
So maybe he tries to take trains that leads him to Shinjuku on his way to work. He wakes up earlier since that’s about the time he’ll get there the same time as he’s met that man. Days has passed—and during the weekend, he sits in a café in the area, relaxing but also keeping his eye out for the people passing by. It’s a little ridiculous. He knows it is. It becomes this weird obsession that he’s back here a week later. He really should stop, it’s not like—  
  
It feels like the traffic stops. The world around him stops. Siegfried is convincing himself that this is a hallucination set about by his desperation to see him again. Yet, here he is in front of him, in all of his glory, dressed in a sleek black suit, a hat that just accents his red. Red tie, and his eyes travel to his hips. What are those hips, even? Siegfried gestures his head the slightest, and turns to walk back to where they’ve done it before. He’s a little nervous that he isn’t following, but he hears his steps behind him.  
  
He turns to a different stall since the one they were in seems to be occupied. He wishes he could devote more to keep him quiet, but that’s not what he wants. This time though, when the door closes, the man drops to his knees. Siegfried’s eyes widens, watches as he undoes his tie with a finger, meeting his gaze determinedly. There it is again.  
  
He’s noticed it the first time they’ve done this, that he seems to have the tendency to know what he wants and will go the length to get it. He looks at him and he feels like he’s telling him not to argue—not a word. No words. No kisses. No names.  
  
The man pulls on his own pants and then Siegfried’s. He’s using his hand to get him there, to get him hard, which works faster than he wants it to. He braces his back against the door, and he tells himself not to take off his hat and mess up his hair, but that’s impossible. He can’t just keep still when a deft tongue is moving along his shaft, hitting all the bundles of nerves that makes sparks appear behind his eyelids. The man’s hand is on his hip to keep him steady, and he alternates between taking him deep and paying attention to the sensitive head of his length. He can see him moving his other hand—he’s touching himself as he’s sucking him off. That’s… rather lewd.  
  
Siegfried takes off his hat, setting it atop the plastic console that holds the tissue rolls. He runs his fingers through his surprisingly soft hair. They tickle between his fingers as he sifts his hands through. He doesn’t seem to mind, either, just earnestly moving his mouth along him. He thinks to warn him, but when he meets his eyes, he has an expression that’s rather unnerving. Can he tell he’s close?  
  
When he comes down from his high after his orgasm, the man in front of him is still getting straightened up. He looks different with his hair down. Siegfried almost feels bad that his hair is messed up because of him. The man just puts his hat back, walks around him—and he’s gone.  
  
For three weeks, on that same day, that’s how the story is. Each week, Siegfried more and more wants to ask him his name. He wants to ask him if he wants to go for coffee… if he’d be interested in going out with him. It’s kind of backwards, he knows, but it’s supposed to be a one time thing! One time, and it’s turned to a weekly thing. Could he not want more…? Is it wrong?  


 

“Hey, are you thinking about Sylph back home?” Vane snaps him out of his thoughts. They’re paused outside the banquet hall, doing last minute adjustments to their outfit as it got a little wrinkled in the car not he way here.   
  
His company is throwing its end of the season party with all their usual partners and sponsors. He’s invited both Vane and Lancelot to thank them for always taking care of his dog when he can’t be there for her. Well, also because he feels a little less awkward with people he knows rather than just being surrounded by acquaintances the whole night.  
  
Vane is looking at him expectantly, with a raised brow. Lancelot laughs softly, walking up in front of Vane to help him fix his bowtie that he’s been struggling with for the last minute or so. He’s not looking at Siegfried, but he’s answering for him, “I think it’s a different kind of puppy Siegfried is thinking about.”  
  
“Wait… he wants to get another puppy?”  
  
“No.” Lancelot raises a brow as he sets the bow tie straight. He kisses his cheek, and turns this time to meet Siefried’s eyes. “I’m talking about puppy love. Isn’t that right, Siegfried?”  
  
“Oh!” Vane brightens up and elbows Siegfried teasingly. “The man from the subway?”  
  
Siegfried hasn’t really given them all the details. It just seems like it won’t be a good idea to admit that he’s had sex with a complete stranger out of a whim. It seems even worse of an idea to admit to having continuous sex with him without even knowing his name, in a bathroom, no less. He sighs, and adjusts his hair as he shakes his head. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”  
  
“Well, I mean.” Vane says, letting him walk ahead and following behind him holding Lancelot’s hand. “You’re the one who keeps thinking about him—and you would talk about him at every opportunity to bring him up. I say, go for it next time you see him! You never know when you won’t get the chance to make a move on him.”  
  
The worst part of that statement is that Vane couldn’t be more right if he wanted. Siegfried just nods and leads them inside. As soon as he steps in, the owner of the company walks up to him to talk to him about how lovely the party is. He wants to remind him that he isn’t in charge of picking the party coordinator, but maybe it’s just him expressing his delight. That’s good. He’s glad he’s in a good mood, which means all Siegfried has to do for the night is his courtesy chat with everyone and he could call it a night and head home. He’s not much for parties like this. Most attendees are the type of people that he doesn’t really like outside work.  
  
He’ll speak to the other two about leaving, but for now, he just wants to let them socialize and have fun. He ought to stop treating them like they’re his kids, though, probably.  


The night already feels long. He’s only started talking with the few acquaintances here and there, and he hasn’t even seen everyone who has arrived before them. There are also people arriving as he’s speaking with the ones who are here. Siegfried’s mind is just elsewhere. What has happened to him that his waking thoughts has been mostly about that man?   
  
He thinks about his face as if he could burn the way he looks behind his eyelids so he could see him every time he blinks. His fair skin feels so smooth, tastes salty as skin sometimes is. It’s a mouthfeel that he enjoys thoroughly, his skin against his lips and then his tongue. The elasticity when he pulls on it between his teeth and lets it go. Eyes and hair so bright and fire like that he doesn’t know how anyone could even look away from him. Siegfried wonders if maybe he’s already memorized the way his body feels in his hands: his curves, his edges.  
  
He excuses himself from his current conversation. Maybe he needs a drink, after all, a few might to take his edge off, that need. That want. As he grabs himself a flute of bubbly, he turns to where he feels someone staring. It’s common at places like this, people who wants to talk to him but isn’t sure if the time is right. They want to talk, but don’t know how to approach him. So, sometimes, he needs to take initiative sometimes and approach them himself—  
  


—is he hallucinating?  
  
How else could he be seeing those familiar red eyes staring back at him?  
  
The only way Siegfried could describe what he does next is that it’s as if he’s on autopilot. He sets his drink down, recognizing the surprise in those red eyes much like on his own. But his eyes turn from surprised to resolved in a matter of moment. Siegfried could wonder, he could be thinking about what in the world this man is doing here, but that is the furthest thing from his mind. All that matters is that he is here, for one reason or another.  
  
He wonders if Vane would be proud of him. What was it that he said? Go for it?  
  
He takes his hand and pulls him from the reception hall to the taxi stands. The man in his hand offers no resistance, and neither of them say anything. He doesn’t think there’s anything meaningful in the silence that fills the cab on their way to his apartment. There isn’t anything uncomfortable either, though he suspects that the man with him has a lot of questions. Frankly, so does Siegfried, but it doesn’t feel right in the light of what’s happening.  
  
They get to his building, and he doesn’t make haste in holding the front door open for the man whose fiery eyes watched him closely. He leads him up the flight of stairs to the fourth floor and opens the door once more at the landing, and then his apartment. It’s almost in some weird routine that they take their shoes off, and Siegfried makes his way across the apartment to his bed room.  
  
If there is a time where he truly wanted to ask questions—

—why was he in that party?   
  
Who is he?  
  
How is it that he’s never met him before if he worked in the company?  
  
Perhaps he’s a guest of someone?  
  
Was he… there with someone?  
  
None of it seems to matter. It’s just the two of them now in his bedroom. Now there’s a tug to his tie, and he leans down to meet his lips. He isn’t expecting that at all, but here he is. His lips are soft and warm, it seems cool in contrast to everything else about him. Siegfried knows that being so taken with such a beautiful flame is only going to burn him, but he doesn’t really care right now.  
  
He settles his hands on his hips, and they’re a little bit closer now. Neither of them care too much about the state of their suit anymore, that much is true when he feels him wrap his arms around his neck a little, as if that will emulate the way their kiss deepens. He can taste his mouth now—the softness, the wetness, the warmth of it. He must’ve had some wine before he’s arrived at the banquet hall. He tastes a little sweet to him. Siegfried doesn’t know why he thought he’d be spicy. Perhaps just the way he looks.  
  
Occupied with the kiss, he’s easily able to coax him to walk with him, blindly backwards to the bed. He walks until the back of his leg meets the bed, and he takes that time to move his hands to strip his own jacket, and then his tie. He feels the other hands on him travelling across his chest, and making quick work of the buttons of his shirt. Hands that feel like they’re moving fast but inducing this slow burn.  
  
The man’s clothes are next, at least what they could get without breaking the kiss since neither of them seem interested in doing something else rather than licking each other’s mouths. It’s almost as if they’re making up for all the time that they hadn’t even kissed. Funny how many times they’ve done this, that he’s sure he knows just what buttons to press, and yet he knows so little of how he’d like to be kissed.  
  


Percival doesn’t really know what’s gotten into him. He’s the one who made a point of drawing the line on kissing. Kissing and talking. Yet, here he is now.

Maybe because of all places he could possibly meet this man again, it’s in a work-related party. He has been with the company for at least two years now, but this has been his first chance to go to the Christmas party. The fact that the first person he literally sees is this guy—  
  
—well, let’s just say there’s a reason why they’re falling together on the bed now. He lays on top of him, tilting his head to deepen the kiss a little more. Somehow this feels right. It feels right to be kissing him with the hands wandering around his body like he doesn’t know yet how he feels under his touch. In a way, this is new, this is the first time that they’re both without shirts, aside from being able to kiss each other.  
  
It feels like he’s trying to memorize the way his skin feels, each curve and dip of his muscles. Percival wants to do the same, and he doesn’t even know that the touch of his hands feels like he has hot coals beneath his skin. His touch is searing along his skin—electrifying and going straight to the groin that he feels starting to shift under him. He’s getting there, too, so he welcomes the feeling of friction between them.  
  
It is a slow build, neither of them moving from where their mouths are in a lip lock. Percival let him explore his mouth, guide him to the way he liked to be kiss… and then the man lets him do the same. They change over a few times, even just wrestling with their tongues. The movement of their hips doesn’t really escalate, though now Percival’s legs are tangled with this man beneath him that he’s partially rubbing himself against his thigh. His stupidly muscular thigh. 

If this man turns out to be a model for the same company, too, he has no idea how he’s managed to slip under Percival’s radar for so long. 

He’s totally his type. 

He makes a sound to the kiss when he’s rolled onto his back. They break the kiss and he tips his head back, a hand going through the man’s long brown hair. He scratches at his scalp, Percival exposes more of his neck since the man seems invested in kissing every patch of his skin he could get his lips and mouth against. Though what makes him shudder is the way he’s travelling down his body. There is no rush. It’s as if this man before him is trying to prove to him that he’s good in bed when Percy already knows.   
  
Just how many times have they had sex in that stupid mall’s public bathroom?

His mouth and hands map his torso, like a blind man feeling his way down his body. It just makes him feel hotter the more he touches him. He doesn’t even show any doubt when he ends up sitting up between Percival’s legs. He makes quick work of his pants, and then his own.  


This is the first time Percival is seeing him naked. He has an idea with how many intimate time they’ve shared, but it’s not like they were ever stark naked as they are now. Idea would never actually paint how stunning he is. He’s muscular, his body well toned. In the dim light, he thinks he could see…. scars…? All across his body but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s so damn beautiful. If anything, it adds to it. It adds to the mystery of who he could possibly me. Percival doesn’t say that anyone is beautiful very often since he does have a certain standard for beauty, but this man…   
  
He’s something else.  
  
“I want to go all the way tonight.” He says, still sizing up the man before him.  
  
Percival meets his eyes, and the man looks as surprised as he is aroused. “Is that a request?”  
  
That… is also the first time he’s heard him speak. His voice… he has glimpses of it before. Though they’re mostly groans and grunts, he thought he has an idea of how he sounds like but he’s caught almost off guard with he spoke. It suits him. From what he knows of him, it just fits.  
  
“It hardly sounded like one, but will you take it as one anyway?” He asks with a smile, and the man between his legs chuckles.  
  
He chuckles and then he leans forward to kiss Percival again. The kiss doesn’t last that long, but long enough to make Percival make a slight sound when it breaks. He feels his words more than he hears it when he murmurs against his lips, “For you? Anything.” 

For him… anything?

His words are a little surprising, but his actions aren’t. In fact they take a whole new turn to the unpredictable, though he should’ve known with the way he said that. The man breaks from him to sit up, moving to the bedside drawer. It takes him some time, some fumbling like he’s digging into a big purse for something that isn’t there anymore. Percival thinks that it says a lot about him—he’s always ready when they meet, but what he needs for sex at home isn’t so easily accessible says something about him. That perhaps Percival has been his only partner for a long time. That or he makes a habit of meeting up with people to have sex with them in public places.   
  
Not that he would know why, from what he’s seen of his apartment so far, it’s impressive. It’s reflective of all the times he’s met him and he matches Percival with a well made suit of his own. Every time. Has Percival rant on lately about how gorgeous this man looks? Because don’t even get him started with how easily he thinks this man could get anyone if he wanted to. 

 

Siegfried wonders, briefly, if he’s said or done something that didn’t make sense. Aside from the eagerness, the face of the man beneath him is now washed with something that looks almost like deep contemplation. He smiles at him softly, tossing what he’s found in the bedside table to the side where he can reach it. He wants to pull him back to where they are before, to this man telling him that he wants to go all the way tonight.  
  
He kisses him again, softly at first and letting it naturally deepen. Siegfried is stupidly confident that this isn’t the last time he’ll get to see him. This isn’t the last time the two of them are going to be in bed like this, so he wants to take his time now. He wants to take his time to get to know him. Siegfried wants to know what buttons to press and how to press them—he already has an idea, but he wants to learn. Siegfried wants to know how to pleasure him.  
  
If that means taking his time in touching him with his fingers, that’s what he’s going to do. In the while that he stretches him with his fingers, he makes it worth his while. He makes sure thatthis isn’t just a step into something else, but a way to pleasure him, too. Siegfried is kissing him the entire time, his mouth—and then when he starts to make those nice sounds, he moves to his neck so he could hear him more.  
  
The two of them are in sync, just as Siegfried thinks that he’s ready, the man before him reaches for his face. He goes with the way he’s pulled up, meeting those fiery red eyes with his earth-toned ones. Siegfried smiles as he leans forward to kiss him chastely, “Any preference in position?”  
  
He laughs breathlessly.  
  
Siegfried doesn’t know why or when he’s turned to a love-sick teenager, but he thinks that his laugh is also beautiful. How in the world could a laugh be beautiful? He really doesn’t know, but this man’s is.  
  
“Let me see your face.”  
  
Siegfried nods at the command, kissing the side of his mouth. He kneels on the bed to slip the condom on, and thinking about it, he smiles. Siegfried sets his hands on his hips, turning him to his side. He straddles the leg closer to the bed, spreading him a little with the leg he’s lifted up.  
  


Percival is a little surprised at the position, but he wasn’t really expecting anything specific. He’s on his side for the most part but he turns enough so he could watch him. Percival can read the need and want in the man’s face, but more than that, there is more than lust there. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is yet, but it’s definitely there. He meets his eyes and he starts to feel him push forward.   
  
The girth, of course, is nothing like how it has been with his fingers earlier. He’s stretched him out enough, to be sure, but nothing is quite like this. Percival breathes steadily, pressing his head to the bed a little, and he can feel it. He can feel him as he starts to push in more, but he can also feel him holding back. His grip on his thigh is hard, like he’s using all of his being and will not to push in as fast as he wants to. He groans, biting at his lower lip and trying to keep himself relaxed for him.  
  
It takes some time before he’s fully seated, and he knows he is because he finally hears him. He hears him groan, and he sees him drop his head down. Percival can feel everything. He can feel the way he’s breathing heavily—and honestly, he thinks he feels like he’s pulsing inside, too.  
  
With that same low and reassuring voice, he asks, “Are you… are you alright?”  
  
Percival smiles a little. He runs his fingers through his hair, turning to look at him again. He can’t help but look at where they’re connected, but he meets those concerned eyes, “Yeah—feels good.”  
  
That draws a smile and a warning, “I’m going… to move—tell me if it’s too much."  
  
Percival nods and he tries not to brace himself, knowing that it’ll only make things even worse for him. He starts to feel him move, just as he says he would. But it is’t just hair-trigger thrusting, he’s rolling his hips first. He’s trying to get him used to the motions first before he even starts to actually pull back and push back in, inch by inch. There is a burn. The slight burn of being stretched inside, the friction.  
  
The burn that fades when he’s suddenly hitting that spot inside of him that makes him feel like his breath is literally pulled from him. He moans, and before he could recover, he can feel him touching his length. He’s stroking him in tandem with his thrusts, the massage to his prostate.  
  
He’s starting to overload with pleasure, that he doesn’t even realize that the grip to his thighs—where he’s holding him as they move more frantically is going to leave some bruises the next day. Hell. He might even walk with a damn limp the way they’re going at it.  
  
But does it feel good.  
  
Enough that he doesn’t get a warning out before he’s moaning, back arching as white hot orgasm washes over him like a flood.  
  
At the same time, Siegfried suddenly feels the grip inside of him tighten up. As if he’s not already moving fast and hard enough, there’s even more pleasure from the heat and grip that’s perfectly stroking his length. He doesn’t know how in the world could he feel so perfect around him.  
  
He pushes in him deeper as he comes, not caring that the condom is there. His hips is jutting forward like he wants to thrust even more. Oh. He can’t even begin to describe the feeling. It’s an understatement to say that it’s like he’s been thrusted up into the clouds, way pass cloud nine.  
  
When he comes to, the man before him is now untangled where their legs are. He’s no longer inside of him and the condom has already been tied off and gone somewhere he doesn’t even know where. The man before him is sitting in front of where he’s kneeling. Siegfried blinks at him questioningly, but the man just takes his face into his hands and pulls him down to a kiss.  
  
Siegfried laughs lightly to the kiss when he feels him pulling, the two of them falling back to the bed. It seems like he’s already cleaned himself, too, and his hands. Just how long has he been out of it from his orgasm?  
  
Percival smiles at the laugh, breaking the kiss into smaller ones. He settles onto the bed, with surprising no intention of leaving. He lays on the arm that’s settled on the bed like the man before him is inviting him into his arms like this. Well he hopes he doesn’t mind that he takes that offer.  
  
Siegfried, on the other hand, doesn’t even think twice about it. He’s going to follow Vane’s advice all the way through.  
  
He’s not going to let this man go.  
  
He knew that before he even thought he could take him home like this, but now that he has… well, he’s even more determined.  
  
As soon as his breathing is evened out and it doesn’t look like the man to his side is going anywhere, he runs the tips of his fingers of his free arm through his hair. Still surprisingly soft with the amount of hair products he probably uses to style his hair the way he normally has it. He feels him give a contented sigh, which all the more prompts him to ask, “… what’s your name?"  


From all the times he has imagined this scenario, he thinks that there is two ways that it could’ve gone, no problem. The first is rejection, in which this man would just get up, look at him and outright say he isn’t interested. He’s only interested in the sex. The second, he would just get up and leave without another word. Either way, he thinks that in both scenario, it’s the end of whatever short-lived thing it is that is between them. 

He would’ve never thought that the man would be shifting where he’s settled on his arms so he could meet his eyes. He looks at him disbelievingly, as he asks, “Are you serious? You don’t know who I am?”

Siegfried isn’t sure how to answer that. Has he met him before their encounter and forgot? How could he possibly forget someone like him? After the first time they met, he’s all he could think of. Forgetting someone like him seems like a far off thing. He makes a slight face and shakes his head.   
  
“What in the world are you doing in that party then?” The man continues to ask, and even more Siegfried is confused.  
  
“I’m… I work as Vice President of Internal Operations.” He says, raising a brow, laying on his side, propping his head up with his folded elbow. This is not the kind of pillow talk that he thought he’d have with him.  
  
Percival snorts, shaking his head. “How does the Vice President of Internal Operations don’t know the face of their company?”  
  
Siegfried just blinks at him and Percival—of all things—feel good about this. He’s a little offended that someone doesn’t know who in the world he is since he is the biggest name and face right now in the modelling world. But at the same time, this man doesn’t know him. He didn’t pursue him for his name or his money. There’s attraction there without his reputation and that means more to him than anything else.  
  
“Percival.” He says, leaning up to nip at his cheek. “My name is Percival.”  
  
Siegfried laughs at the nip to his cheek, and he moves to kiss him after he hears his name. He pulls back from the kiss but not from his lips, speaking against them, “Well, Percival, I might not know you as the face of the company, but what do you say about getting to know each other better than that then?”

“If you’re asking me out, I’d like your name, at least.” Percival says playfully, kissing him again.   
  
“Siegfried.” He replies when the kiss breaks.  
  
“Alright then, Siegfried.” Percival yawns, settling back down on the bed. “We’ll discuss this more tomorrow, I’m a little tired.”  
  
Siegfried settles his arms around him, kissing the side of his head  
  
“Then get some sleep, we'll talk over breakfast.” He pauses before he murmurs with a smile, "Good night, Percival."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated birthday, Rashu~! I'm sorry I'm super late.  
> I hope I didn't completely butcher your pretty boys. ; _ ;
> 
> That aside, didn't think this is going to be my first work of the new year.   
> Wow. I suck at writing.


End file.
